


Connect 'Missing Scene'

by oooknuk



Series: Needs [4]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 04:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10779357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: Eric and Henry help a troubled Duncan find balance in his life





	Connect 'Missing Scene'

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Fisting, m/m, angst, and sap. Seriously, sap.

When Duncan returned from the mountain with Henry, I could see we had another kind of hill to climb. In former times, the MacLeod would have been a knight. The finely honed sense of chivalry which drove my friend Methos so insane would have fitted him perfectly then. Unfortunately, his honour and chivalry, which made him such a good and honest friend, made him his own worst enemy.

Methos had been close to outright despair when I'd spoken to him this morning. "Eric, I swear the next thing he's going to do is ask me to take his head. I don't know why he's beating himself up like this over Joe and I don't know how to get through to him. He's even blaming himself because he's feeling bad — how crazy is that?"

"Pretty crazy," I agreed. "What about you, my friend? Who looks to your welfare?"

There was a silence. "Just send Mac back to me with some of the burden lifted, Eric. I can do the rest. I just want to help him, but he won't let me. He won't let anyone." He sighed. "He never bloody does."

How trying. "I promise we'll do what we can. But Methos, this isn't your fault either. When things ease a little, will you come to us too? I'm sure a good thrashing would do you good," I joked.

"No doubt," he said, and I could hear him smiling. "Yes, of course, master. My love to you both ... and... Eric, tell Duncan I love him. I always will do."

"He knows, Methos. He knows."

Seeing Duncan's grim face as he joined me in the garden, I was a little shaken in that belief. Here was a man convinced of his own unlovability if I had ever met one, and of course he could not begin to show his affection to Methos if he was so convinced that affection towards him was wasted. "Come and sit," I instructed. He sat next to me, and without asking permission, I stroked his hair. He shied a little, but not from the liberty, I knew. "You look weary, Duncan."

"Because I am, Eric," he said. "I'm tired and I don't know where to go for peace."

"Methos?"

The corners of his mouth turned down even more. "When I'm with him, all I can see is how much I'm hurting him. Damn it, he was so patient with me while Joe was sick, and now I'm back, all I can do is punish him because I feel so lousy. What sort of lover does that make me?" he said angrily.

There were tears in his eyes, but then he had been on the verge of them since he'd got here. "I think it makes you a lover in pain, and in need of care, Duncan. It doesn't make you a bad person, it doesn't make you a cruel one. And it has not deprived you of his love or our affection, nor shall it."

He clenched his fists on his knees. "There _is_ something I want, Eric, and you are the only person I can ask...."

"No, Duncan."

"No?" He turned soulful eyes to me.

"I will not hurt you to expiate your sins, whatever you see them to be. That's not what I do. If you want me to hurt you because you find it sexually arousing, or you want it to clear your mind, then yes. But not because you think you deserve to suffer."

He dropped his head but I touched his chin and made him look at me. "My dear man, do you think I could do anything to hurt your body that would be worse than the ache in your heart? You are in need of less pain, not more."

"Please, Eric. It's the only thing I can think of to try. To ...burn ... this out of me. Drive it away ... it works for Methos...," he whispered.

I pulled him close, let him rest his head on my shoulder, stroking his hair gently. An exorcism was what he was asking for, as if his grief was an alien being, something he had no right to. "And if you suffer as much as Joe did as he died, will that be enough? If I make you cry until you can cry no more, would that be enough? If I took your head, Duncan — would that be enough?"

Under my hands, his body stiffened, but he did not speak. "Ah, see, you don't want to die, but you want to do everything short of it. Duncan, I could strip the flesh from your bones until you were nothing but a skeleton. I could make you scream until even Immortal healing would not restore your ravaged throat. But Joe would still be dead, and you would still feel guilty that you live, and Methos would still be there with his inconvenient love for you. You want the pain because it will make you angry, and anger is easier than grief because you can fight it when you can't fight this pain inside you."

He lifted his misery-ravaged face. "I deserve it...."

"You deserve love, and all manner of good things, Duncan. Nothing else, nothing less." I cupped his chin. "I am not your father, or your confessor. I am your friend and as your friend, I am going to ask something from you."

He wiped his eyes. "Anything," he agreed in a hoarse voice.

"Give yourself to me and Henry until you leave. You must do your best to let us make you feel good." His jaw tightened stubbornly. "Is the prospect of pleasure so appalling to you?"

"I don't deserve...."

I slapped his face, and he stared at me in shock. If anyone else had done it, I'm sure he'd have done more than stare. "Did that hurt, Duncan?"

"A bit, " he said sullenly.

"Did you deserve _that_?"

He gritted his teeth. "I guess so."

I needed to stop this right now, but mere words were just going to make him balky "All right. Get up," I said coldly, hating myself for it.

Puzzled, he obeyed, standing slowly and looking at me warily. "Go into the house. Now." I shoved him in the back, urging him forward, deliberately rough with him as I had never been. This was distasteful in the extreme but needs must.

I made him go to the workroom, as I call it, and told him to strip. He knew what was coming and there was a grim satisfaction on his face which saddened me to see. It was my job to remove that satisfaction.

I broke out the fibreglass cane. I wasn't going to mess around warming him up, this wasn't a scene, and he wouldn't stand for it. "In the frame," I ordered, then snapped his wrists into place with the manacles. I was so glad Methos wasn't here, not that he would have disagreed with what I was doing, but because it was such a perversion of the relationship I had built up between the three of us. With any luck, it would be a short-lived distortion.

I grabbed the back of his head by his mane of long hair. "You think you deserve this, don't you, Duncan?"

"Yes," he said hoarsely.

I cracked the switch across his backside. I saw him jump but he made no cry, even though I had not told him to remain quiet. I hit him again. "Does it hurt, Duncan?"

"Not enough," he said in a muffled voice.

"That," I said severely, punctuating each word with a vicious blow," Was. Not. My. Question. Does it _hurt_?"

"Yes!" he shouted angrily.

"You deserve this?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

No reply that time. "You know, three soldiers raped my wife before they tortured her to death. Do you think they would deserve this?"

"Yes."

"More than this?"

"Ye...yes." His control was not as strong as he thought it was. Thank God.

"The man who ordered it, I cut his balls off and made him eat them. Do you deserve that, Duncan?"

No reply. I grabbed his head and shook it. "Answer the question. Do you deserve that?"

"Yes!" he screamed.

I struck him again, this time across the shoulders. "You deserve this because you're a rapist, Duncan?"

"No, I ...."

"You're as bad as one?"

No answer. Sweat was pouring off him now, and he was bruised and bleeding in several places. I had no doubt tears of pain would be coursing down his face. "I castrated him, and then I cut his fingers and toes off one by one, Duncan. Because he deserved it. Are you as bad as that man? Are you evil, Duncan MacLeod? Do you deserve to die in agony?" I struck him between each question with all the force my arm could bring to bear.

"Yes! No!"

I struck him twice more and he screamed, but not with pain. "I won't stop until you tell me I have reached the level you deserve, Duncan. I can do this all day and all night. I can think of tortures that even Methos could not stomach. But if you want that, you'll have to tell me why you deserve it."

He was shaking hard now, from pain and from weariness and emotion. I belted him across the back of the knees, which is a devilish place to be hit and he yelled. "Why are you as bad as a rapist, MacLeod. Who did you hurt that badly?"

"Joe," he groaned.

"Try again, Duncan. You helped Joe."

"I failed him!"

"He died, Duncan. Not your fault, nothing you could do. Not good enough. If you want punishment then you have to give me a better reason than that."

"Please, Eric. Please ...."

"Please, what, child?"

"Please. ... make the pain go away," he whispered.

"You want pain to make the pain go away?"

"Yes! Stop me ... thinking... remembering ... please, Eric, hit me again!"

I threw the switch to the far corner of the room, then slid my arms around him and lay my head against his shoulder. "No, Duncan, I will not. Because when I stop, the pain returns and you are no better off, and all that has happened is that I have added to your misery."

He was racked with sobs now, a deep wordless agony that made me want to weep to hear it. "Oh child, if you want relief from pain, there are so many better ways of achieving it." I reached over his head and undid the manacles. He collapsed in my arms. I laid him down gently and turned his face to my chest, letting him shake. Poor Duncan. So strong, so determined to do the right thing, and neglecting himself so badly.

I knew my lover was listening to all this. "Henry, would you run a bath in the next room?"

"Yes, love," he said quietly.

I doubt Duncan heard our exchange. Methos' partner is a brawny man, a match even for me and I'm considered well built. He was very heavy against me, and at the moment, quite incapable of shifting himself. It didn't matter. There was nowhere else we needed to be.

No wonder Methos couldn't help him. All his instincts would have been to help Duncan, to love him, and with the man so bound and determined that he didn't deserve anything of the sort, he would have been fighting Methos' every attempt like it was an attack.

Well, I'm not Methos, and I was perfectly happy to be unkind if Duncan needed it, but I didn't think he did. What he needed was a break from feeling so appallingly unhappy, and that sort of break was exactly what I specialised in giving people. I would help this confused warrior out of his depression if I had to die trying.

Henry slipped into the room, sympathy strong on his beautiful face. "Need a hand?"

"Yes, I think so. Duncan, come with us now."

He moved a little, but it was clearly an effort. Henry bent and helped me get him standing. What a mess he was. Tear and sweat stained, blooded from the healing stripes on his back, and a dazed, miserable look on his face. It had taken no time at all to break down his brave façade. He was close to breaking apart completely.

With a little effort, Henry and I got him into the bathroom next to where we had been — it was handy to be able to clean up after a scene, and to let abused muscles ease, but it was also good when someone was too overwhelmed to walk far, as it proved to be in this case.

The 'bath' itself was a full-size Jacuzzi, more than big enough for all of us, and after a glance at me, Henry stripped quickly and lowered himself into the bath next to Duncan, who roused a little. "I'm sorry," he said then, blinking at me. I sat down on the chair next to the bath and regarded him. Henry wrapped an arm around Duncan's shoulder and stopped him slipping down under the water.

"What for, Duncan? For being distressed and in pain? You may as well blame Joe for having cancer."

He tightened his lips at that quite deliberate barb. "It's not the same."

"No, it's not. But you can't go around saying one type of pain is more worthy than another. It's a nonsense. You're hurt and you need something to ease that pain or it will eat you alive just as surely as the cancer ate Joe's spine. Lord, Duncan, you came here wanting to add to your suffering and you can hardly exist with what you have already. A sensible man like you has to see that."

He hung his head, not willing to hear that he could be allowed to be free of pain without feeling guilty. Henry began a gentle massage of his neck. Duncan seemed to realise for the first time who was with him in the tub. "You don't have to do this," he said, turning around to look at Henry with obvious embarrassment.

"Am I doing it wrong?" Henry said artlessly. Now, my lover is a true innocent, but he can also play it up quite outrageously and he is in no way stupid. Duncan is a complete sucker for his wide eyes and gentle smile. As am I, of course, but that's another story.

"No, I didn't mean... I just meant...."

"But I want to do this for you. Do you mind?"

Duncan gazed into Henry's sincere eyes and shook his head. "No. Thank you."

Henry smiled sweetly and kept up the careful motion of his hands. I turned on the underwater jets, setting the water to bubbling, grinning a little at the startled surprise of the bathers. Then I lit a couple of scented candles and turned the lighting down a little. "Is there room in there for me?" I asked.

Duncan seemed too stupefied to answer, but Henry smiled. "Always, Eric."

The water was blissful, and it was lovely to be next to people I was so fond of, although Duncan still seemed a little reserved. "Now isn't this lovely?" I asked, sinking up to my chin, and resting my head on Duncan's chest.

"It certainly is," Henry agreed softly. "Duncan, do you like this?"

"It's okay," he said dispiritedly. I wanted him to really enjoy this so I tugged him free of Henry's grasp and urged him to float in the water, supported only by the jets of bubbles. I got him to lie back in the water, so I could pour a little scented oil on his chest. The heat caused the perfume to fill the air immediately. Sandalwood, something I always found soothing.

Without talking to him further, Henry and I helped him float, just nudging him occasionally, making sure his head didn't slip under the water, his hair floating around him. Very gradually, the tense misery in his face eased, and the lines in his face relaxed a little. I think he might have fallen asleep if we'd let him, but that wasn't the plan. I didn't have a plan yet, but I had my instincts, and what Henry didn't know about making people feeling loved and happy wouldn't fill the back of a postage stamp.

I think we were there over an hour, and it was Duncan himself who finally righted himself and stood up. I stroked the clinging wet hair away from his face. "Now, doesn't that feel better than being birched?"

A small smile twitched on his lips. "Yes, just a little." He touched my hand. "Thank you."

"Not at all, Duncan. Now, let's get out and see what wonders our housekeeper has come up with for supper."

Henry dressed again because he's shy about being on display, but Duncan and I merely put on towelling bathrobes and sat down to eat like that. My good lady had done a wonderful job as always — a light and easily digested meal as I'd requested, food that would not stop our troubled friend sleeping but which would tease and delight an appetite that had been depressed. Methos had said that Duncan had had difficulty in just about every aspect of his everyday life, and had been eating poorly in addition to sleeping badly and being unable to keep his temper. Classic depression, really, and the classic cure was distraction. Prevent someone from feeling miserable for long enough, and happiness becomes a habit.

I indulged in some wine, and Henry put on a new recording he'd ordered of the Brandenburg Concertos. If left to himself, he'd have put on something more sombre, but the Bach was a concession to the need to lift Duncan's mood. It helped, certainly, the bright, vigorous cello music raising a smile on our guest's face. "You like Bach?" I asked him.

"I love him. Methos doesn't care for him much. He prefers modern music, don't ask me why."

Henry shuddered. Mozart is modern enough for him, and he considers Beethoven barely tolerable. I tend more to the modern music myself, but what Methos calls modern and what I do are two different things. "Have you seen these, Duncan?" Henry asked, spreading the disks in front of him. Duncan picked up one and began to extol the virtues of the singer in a manner which made me wonder if there wasn't a more personal connection there. Henry listened with total absorption. I sipped my wine and smiled at the scene in front of me.

Henry, who is so very retiring with most people, had no reservations with Duncan at all after all these years of friendship, and was eager to talk to him about two years' worth of new acquisitions, discoveries and opinions. He had really missed Duncan, and Duncan was now apparently more than happy to indulge him. After a year of nursing, mostly separated from his lover, I imagined he had not had much chance to converse without any need to feel a care for the person he was talking to, without the burden of responsibility. In fact, being carefree was a sensation I imagined Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod rarely allowed himself.

I kept a watch on him, and sure enough after a couple of hours, he began to droop. It had been a long day with a great deal of stress, so it was hardly surprising he was tired despite the early hour. I yawned. "Henry, I hope you donēt mind, but I'd like to go to bed."

"Of course not, love. Duncan, do you mind?"

He roused himself. "No. Just tell me where I'm sleeping and I'll head off."

I held out my hand. "I was hoping you might join us, actually."

He backed away. "Eric, look, I'm sorry, but I'm really not up to three-way sex right now."

I had to grin at his presumption and Henry just laughed. "Good grief, Duncan, what do you think Eric is suggesting?" he said. Duncan looked confused now. "I don't imagine you like sleeping alone, and you've had more than enough of that this year. Your honour is quite safe," he said with a little twinkle in his green eyes.

Duncan blushed bright red. So sweet, and unexpected, considering his history. "I didnēt mean ... I ... Henry ...."

I put an arm around his shoulders. "You'll blow a gasket if you keep this up. Henry, don't tease him. Duncan, we would like you to share our bed, and nothing more. Unless you want it, of course. The main thing is that you have someone to chase the dreams away and to keep your back warm. Methos would never forgive me if I didn't look after you," I added, appealing to his sense of fair play. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

"Okay," he agreed. "So long as you don't mind."

"Mind? Duncan, have you looked in a mirror lately?" I shook my head at his obtuseness. "Henry, do you mind sharing your bed with the embodiment of manly beauty?"

"Eric, love, I do that every night. I could get bored with perfection if you're not careful. But yes, if you insist," he said with a great sigh. Duncan flushed again. You'd think a man who lived with Methos would be used to being teased, let alone being complimented.

Our bed is huge. Actually, all the beds in our home are huge, because it isn't uncommon for three or four large people to want to share them. If Duncan was feeling unsociable, he could have kept to one edge and not been touched by either of us. We could have had sex and he wouldn't have felt it. Fortunately, he allowed us to settle him between us, and Henry cuddled around him as if he did this all the time, instead of it actually being the first time he'd shared a bed with Duncan — or anyone other than me. I'd almost suspect my lover of having something of a crush on him, except that I know Henry isn't that shallow. He is just huge-hearted and open with his emotions. When he loves, however he loves, he does it with all he has.

Methos was quite right. Duncan was having trouble sleeping. I would have suggested some form of sexual activity to help but I felt it would just add to the stress he was feeling. Henry was fast asleep at this point — he sleeps like the dead once he goes off, so nothing would have woken him. I slipped out of bed and heated some milk, added a good dollop of whisky to it and made up two mugs of it. I handed one to Duncan and he sniffed it. "Mother's milk," I said, and he smiled.

I could feel the warmth of the Scotch all the way to my toes, and I was sure I could detect a lessening in his bodily tension too. "Come here, Duncan," I whispered as he finished his drink and laid the mug aside. I opened my arms and he curled up against me. It must be very hard for a Duncan MacLeod, with all that he is and has been, to admit to being weak and needing physical closeness to help him sleep. At least he had learned long ago that he could trust me to not think less of him for it. It's my job not to do so. The people who come to me here surrender their control to me, and I protect and nurture them while they are here. It seems to be something I'm good at, surprisingly.

It was an source of warm satisfaction for me now that Duncan could lay his head on my chest, let me stroke his back until his breathing changed rhythm and his body got heavy. That the mighty warrior, the clansman would allow this liberty was a blessing nothing to do with Henry's God.

I think I slept the least well of all of us, keeping an ear out as I had been for any sign of distress. Duncan was disturbed by nightmares a couple of times, but he never woke. It only took a few words in his ear and being held before he settled. When Henry woke and found Duncan fast asleep clasped in my arms, he looked pleased. "That was easier than I thought it would be."

"Easy, I donēt think," I said slightly peevishly, since I wanted to piss but didnēt want to disturb our slumbering friend. Henry, who knows me so well after all, took over, sliding under Duncan's body and letting me escape to ease my tortured bladder.

Duncan was up and looking awake and well-rested when I returned. Henry was still holding him loosely. "Now, isn't that an improvement, Henry?" I said, looking at Duncan.

"Oh yes, Eric. Duncan, how do you feel?"

"Better. Foolish," he added with a wry twist of his mouth. "Thank you. I haven't slept that well in months."

"Now all you have to do is keep that up, my dear boy and you will be well on the way to restoring happiness and your relationships, " I said seriously. "Henry, why don't you take charge of Duncan? You two have so much to talk about and I've got things to do here." Which was a lie, but Henry would know why I lied. Duncan might be able to open up to him. So I hoped, anyway.

 

* * *

For the next few days, I didn't see either of them from after breakfast until just before a late supper. I knew they went hiking, and that they spent time working in Henry's garden. I knew they talked, but Henry didn't offer details and I didn't ask. If it was important, one of them would tell me. Duncan was as safe with Henry as he would have been with me — or Methos.

I found time each day to email my other old friend to assure him that Duncan was well and progressing towards a little equilibrium, which he was. Very slowly, and hesitantly, but gradually a gentle regimen of exercise, conversation and pleasant past-times let his stress levels decrease. With that reduction in stress came a measure of understanding of his own condition, and a little more forgiveness for his own inability to deal with his dreadful grief. A little more forgiveness of Joe, and what had passed between them. Duncan was hard on himself but often hard on his friends too. He knew that, acknowledged it. Began, as we talked together in the evening, to see how failure in the face of the unendurable was not only forgivable, but inevitable.

At last, he could begin the long process of grieving for Joe, and for himself, and I knew he would heal.

Still, I was puzzled that he made no great push to leave once he started to feel better but Henry explained one evening when I joined him in the garden. Duncan was reading on his own in the house, and I wanted some time alone with my love. "He's still afraid of hurting Methos," Henry said when I wondered aloud why Duncan seemed to be content to stay, away from his life mate. "It's almost as if he thinks he's forgotten how to love the man."

"Ridiculous," I snorted impatiently.

Henry smiled and put his arm around me. "He's been unhappy for a long time, Eric. Even before Joe got sick. A lot of unresolved guilt there, a lot of pain woken up that he's never really dealt with. You know, I used to think Methos was the crazy one in that relationship. I'm not so sure now."

"That's unusually slow of you, dear. I'd worked out that Methos was basically sound as a bell a long time ago. I just didn't think Duncan would greatly appreciate me offering my kind of 'help'."

Henry looked at me thoughtfully, chewing on his thumbnail. "No, but you know, there are some things _I'm_ good at, and I think it might be time to offer it."

I pulled his hand away from his mouth. Habit — I hated to see him mutilating his body even in the smallest way. "What do you have in mind?"

"He said a few things which made me think that he still feels he should be able to meet more of Methos' needs in the bedroom. Now you know and I know that Methos is completely satisfied in that area, but what if we could show Duncan something new? Something they'd both enjoy? Something," he gazed at his hand, "special?"

Of course I knew what he meant immediately. "He was very uncomfortable the only time he saw me do that, you know."

"Oh, love, that was years and years ago. He even gives Methos proper thrashings from time to time now, and you _know_ he wouldn't have done that when you first met them."

"True." I leaned forward and kissed him. "I leave it to you, Henry. Just give me my cue — if you want me there at all."

"Oh yes, I do, love. Very much." My kind, clever man.

 

* * *

It was two more days before Henry let me know we would be playing before bedtime. I wasn't privy to the conversation where he introduced the idea to Duncan, and I assumed that Henry had explained it all and told him what preparation was needed to Duncan's satisfaction, because as we lounged in the bath, Duncan was quiet but not troubled. Henry watched him carefully, and was more than usually affectionate with him. The bond between the two still surprised and pleased me.

After we dried off, I put my hand on Duncan's shoulder. "I want you to understand something, Duncan. Tonight is not just about you, or about a new experience. Henry is giving you a gift from the two of us, from us to you and Methos."

He nodded slowly. "I understand. And I thank you both." He raised my hand to his lips, and kissed it, before repeating the gesture with Henry. "We thank you."

"Come with me now," I told him.

With Henry on one side of him and me on the other, we walked through our home to the bedroom we keep for play. It's where Duncan and I have made love on occasion, but this would be the first time it had been used for something a little more adventurous between us.

Duncan is no prude. He's made remarkable accommodation with Methos' needs and desires over the years, even while being firmly of the belief that very little of those needs applied to him. We've managed to opened his eyes up about one or two things over time, I like to think. But after Henry raised the idea of handballing with Duncan, I began to wonder if Duncan had held back because he felt admitting he might want something more unusual in their love life meant he had needs that he could not meet without help. Duncan did not like to be dependent.

Methos had long since learned that his vulnerability was his greatest strength. More than ever, now, Duncan's strength was his greatest vulnerability. If things went well tonight perhaps this natural top would learn something more about the pleasures of being a bottom.

If I hadn't been holding his arm, the tiny hesitation Duncan made as he saw the sling hanging high over the bed would never have been noticed. He didn't stop walking. "It's okay, Duncan," I said quietly. "They're very comfortable."

He turned to me and grinned. "You know Methos has been talking about getting one of these for years."

"So why havenēt you?"

"Because...." He stopped.

"He'd want you to use it?"

"Yes. I have no secrets, do I?" he added wryly.

Henry leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Well, Duncan, not after tonight you won't. Just one thing — no Muppet jokes, okay?"

To his credit, Duncan just laughed — and let my lover lead him over to sit on the bed. I hung back a little and let them get comfortable while I assembled various things we would need for this evening.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Duncan looking at Henry with a serious expression, listening intently to everything my lover was saying. I sighed a little. Trust Duncan to see this as an educational experience. The man just wouldn't let go. I saw him glance down at Henry's hand which Henry was holding out for him to examine, and then he nodded. When I saw Henry kiss Duncan carefully on the forehead, I knew they were ready for me, so I came over.

Henry smiled. "There you are, love. Now, Duncan?"

Without prompting, Duncan embraced me, a symbol, if you like, of his acceptance of what we would be doing together. I knew I had Methos' blessing for anything we would want to do tonight, but even if I would not be careful of Duncan for his own sake, I would for Methos'. I wanted Duncan sent back to Methos whole, happy and revitalised.

"Duncan, let me look at you?"

Henry moved back, and Duncan let me slip his bathrobe from his shoulders. He sat quietly, letting me run my hand over his beautiful body, tweaking one dark nipple and stroking his flank. Henry had agreed with me that I would handle this part of things, so he only watched, as was his preference. "Would you get on your hands and knees for me?"

He nodded, but before he moved, I kissed him unhurriedly. He returned it with gentle skill. It was such a thrill to feel that restrained power in his lovely body, and not for the first time, I envied Methos' unfettered access to it. If only I could persuade Henry some time....

Duncan climbed onto the bed on all fours, the line of his long back perfect and straight, the globes of his firm bum presented for our inspection. "Isn't he magnificent, Henry?" I said. Henry nodded, his eyes big. Duncan turned his head to smile at me, but didn't speak. He was getting used to me by now, I supposed.

I spread his cheeks. Henry held up the pot of hand cream he'd selected, and I put a little on my finger, letting it warm before touching it to Duncan's entrance. He didn't move as I nudged my finger in, massaging his left butt cheek as I did, feeling the powerful muscles under my hand. Henry was going to have to use some real power of his own tonight.

I played a little with him before easing in further and finding the spot that would make him react. A long hiss of pleasure as I stroked across that spot, and his butt muscles played and bunched. I was deliberately avoiding his cock but he was hard, already making the tiny aborted movements I knew meant he was very aroused.

A little more lubricant, another finger, thrusting in and out carefully. At my signal, Henry handed me the large toy, already greased up. "A little more now, Duncan."

"Fine," he said, spreading his legs a bit more. His head dropped as the plug slid in, but then jerked up again as I began to slowly move it in and out. It was a stretch for him, but not as much as he was going to get.

"Comfortable, Duncan?"

"It's nice, Eric."

Henry smiled, covering his mouth with his hands. I grinned too. "Only _nice_? Tsk tsk." I pushed it in further and Duncan gasped. "I guess you must be spoiled by Methos."

His hips began to buck against the movements I was making with the plug. Truly, I could watch him do this forever — the dark toy moving in and out of his perfect backside, the way his long legs were straining and moving. Quite a picture. However, that wasn't what we were about.

I seated the thing fully inside him. "You can get down now," I told him, urging him to lie down on his side. He moved carefully — the toy was very big — and then looked at me expectantly. "Just let things ease a little, Duncan," I told him quietly, rolling one of his nipples between my fingers as I spoke. Henry moved to sit behind him, and began to stroke his flank. Duncan had a slightly dreamy, relaxed look on his face which was perfect. "Still feeling good?"

"I like it."

"I think you'll like the rest even more. How someone who likes having their bottoms played with as much as you two haven't tried this before, I'll never know."

"Didn't want to hurt him," he said quietly.

"Methos?" Henry said incredulously.

Duncan looked startled, then laughed. "Right. I was forgetting."

I touched his face. "But what about you, dear boy? You could let Methos do it for you. You know he'd love to." Ah. A determined set to his jaw. "It doesn't make you weak, you know that."

"I know that. I just...."

"Worry you'll like it too much?"

His eyes opened wide. "No...." he started to say.

"And that would mean having to ask Methos to do something for you?" He stared at me silently. "Perhaps that's just what Methos needs from you now. He's missed it so much, all this time with Joe. Unable to help either of you."

Duncan's dark eyes betrayed his sadness, but it was a truth he needed to hear. Henry eased the mood a little as he bent and kissed the back of Duncan's neck. "Giving is very pleasurable," he said in a low voice. "I know I'm _really_ looking forward to giving this to you."

I left them like that and got up so I could reach the sling's hoist controls, lowering the cradle to lie flat on the bed. "Ready to climb on board, Duncan?"

He smiled and scooted over on top of the leather seat. "I'm going to look like an idiot in this, aren't I?"

I placed my palm over his erection. "No, you're going to look like an offering to a god." I felt his cock pulse a little under my hand even as he flushed under his dark colouring. "Nobody would mind anyway, least of all you."

This was going to be very different from our usual 'play'. For one, Duncan was usually more of a spectator, and for another, I was never unclothed. But there was no need, no attempt to impose my dominance here — this wasn't a scene, and I wasn't Duncan's master. I felt unusually thrilled by this — it was so rare for me to engage as an equal in these matters, or to allow Henry to be in charge. From my lover's heightened colour, I knew he was finding it more than a little exciting too. Well, who wouldn't, having someone like Duncan under your hands and letting you do as you wished with him?

Henry made sure Duncan was comfortable and nodded for me to raise the sling. As it lifted above the bed, Henry lowered the leg supports, and once it stopped moving, he placed Duncan's feet in the stirrups. And there he was — completely vulnerable and naked to us. Utterly magnificent.

I got back on the bed, bent over Duncan and kissed him on the lips. "You look wonderful. Do you feel all right?"

"It's comfortable, isn't it," he said, slightly surprised.

"You could sleep like that," Henry assured him. He was already laying out all that he needed on a couple of towels. I moved so I could sit behind Duncan, his head against my chest. The sling was only a few inches above the bed, just the right height for Henry to sit at the end of the bed and be comfortable as he worked. I began to play with Duncan's nipples — the man didn't like pain there the way his lover did, but he was still very responsive. He moaned a little as I worked on him, and I smiled down on him. Such a pleasure to see someone enjoying themselves.

From where I was sitting, Henry was framed by Duncan's legs, and what a sight he was too, his tongue poking through his lips a little as he concentrated, easing the large plug out of Duncan, so careful not to cause any pain. Henry can't bear to see anyone suffer. The strange thing is that he can enjoy watching my scenes with our guests and finds them most arousing, but the second there's the slightest real distress and it's as if I had cut him to the bone myself. I wondered, yet again, how I could have been so lucky to have him as my lover, with all my sins behind me.

My eyes on Henry, I continued to play with Duncan, monitoring his reactions as much by the way he felt leaning against my body as by sight. So far, all I could feel was a growing arousal and a lack of even the slightest distress. Good. "Now, Duncan," Henry began to say, "I'm going to start and take it slow, just as we discussed. This shouldn't hurt at all."

"I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

"That's good. Just breathe nice and slow, and think of it as a really intense, deep massage."

Oh yes, it was that, I well knew. Henry did this for me often and I adored it. Duncan was in for a treat. From where I was sitting, I had a perfect view of what Henry was about, and now I could see two of his fingers exploring Duncan's entrance. "Good, nice and relaxed. You feel so lovely around my fingers, Duncan."

"Feels good here too, Henry," Duncan said, although he sounded a little distracted.

Henry was content to keep up what he was doing for several minutes. It was very quiet and peaceful here in this room, just the three of us in perfect harmony, but I so wished Methos could be here. He must have been missing Duncan terribly.

A slight gasp, and I looked down. Duncan seemed to be concentrating on something ... ah, Henry was using all his fingers now. "Relax," I whispered, stroking his face. He sort of shivered and then settled. "That's better. He won't hurt you." I knew Henry could hear me, but he was staying silent, letting me deal with Duncan as if we were alone.

Henry's fingers were moving in and out slowly, but what would come next I felt, to me, would be much more pleasurable to receive. "Going to try my whole hand now," he said, and Duncan nodded.

He scooped out more hand cream and put it on the hand he was using. His expression was one of pure concentration now. Duncan's muscles would be working against him however much he relaxed — that's what they were designed to do, after all. Then — "Oh fuck!" Duncan suddenly gasped.

Henry stopped moving, and placed his free hand on Duncan's stomach. "Easy, easy. I know, it's a lot. Breathe, Duncan. You're doing well."

I could see Duncan's whole body struggling to relax, his muscles rippling. "That's the hardest bit," I said quietly, stroking his face.

"I can't ... believe it... Eric ... it's....oh God...." Henry had turned his hand a little, no doubt stroking over the magic spot. "Henry...." It was like a prayer, the way he said it.

Henry grinned at me. "I think he understands now."

"I'm sure he does, dear. You're doing beautifully, Duncan. So very well."

Duncan seemed to be beyond speech now. His eyes were closed tight and his breath was coming hard and fast, as if he'd been running. Good — he was letting go, too absorbed in the sensations to care what he looked like, or even that we were there. For once in a rare while, he was thinking only of his own pleasure.

Henry nodded and began to move his hand again. Duncan's eyes opened and he clutched at the sling supports, but didn't say a word as he gasped, feeling Henry moving deep within him. His body writhed, urging, I could see, Henry's hand more and more into him. I think he startled Henry a little by his enthusiasm. I winked at my lover, who smiled a little uncertainly at me. 'Don't worry,' I mouthed.

He nodded. I'd wondered how far he would go with Duncan — now I had my answer as Henry slathered cream up most of his forearm, before pushing it further in. He began to move his hand and Duncan just ... sighed. After a minute or two, I could tell the precise moment when he just let himself go completely, his body went slack and his face eased as it did in sleep... no, more restfully than that, because his sleep was so often troubled.

In silence I watched the two of them, not touching Duncan now except with my hand resting lightly on his chest. His eyes were half-shuttered, watching Henry through heavy lids, and his breathing was now deep and even.

This was the most astounding reaction to fisting I'd ever seen, and Henry looked at me, his head cocked a little in enquiry. 'It's okay', I mouthed at him. 'Keep going.'

He gave me a wink, but didn't break the slow movement of his arm. And there we were, intimately, exquisitely connected, Henry's hand in Duncan, Duncan's head on my chest. So rare for me to find a moment of such shared intimacy with someone other than Henry that I had not designed or choreographed.

Duncan made a soft noise. "All right?" I asked him. His eyes were open a little more, his mouth open as if he was breathing fast.

"Need to come, Eric," he pleaded quietly. "Please."

I was surprised that he seemed to need my permission. "Of course, Duncan. Touch yourself. Show us."

I took his hand and guided it towards his cock. As soon as his fist wrapped around himself, his head tipped back and he sighed again.

Henry's tongue was now caught between his teeth and his colour was very high, his eyes fixed on that juncture of flesh, Duncan's big hand around his perfect erection, moving up and down in that universal action that even I, long denied the release, still remembered. I watched, transfixed, as Henry began to match his movements to Duncan's, making love to him with the hand inside Duncan, playing counterpoint. I wished I could put my hand over Duncan's, be part of that magic the two of them were making, but I had long promised Methos and Duncan that whatever else, this was sacrosanct. Their climaxes belonged to them alone. It was a promise I wished I could break now, for all that.

Duncan's body was now flushed with his arousal, and his face was damp. His eyes never moved from Henry, and just as Henry was matching him, Duncan was matching Henry. His whole body was tense, the muscles in his stomach rippling. Faster, harder he was stroking until Henry could no longer meet his pace without hurting him, but even with all that warning, his orgasm still seemed shocking quick, as if I had been thinking we had so much longer to go.

He cried out, astonishingly loud and incoherent, and his body convulsed once, went rigid and then he went entirely limp, his hand falling away from his cock, and his limbs going slack. Henry's eyes widened in shock at the sight, then he looked at me, horrified. "Eric?"

I looked down at our friend. Duncan was out cold. I lifted an eyelid — no reaction. "Well, that's interesting."

"What happened?"

"Overload. I'm sure he's all right. I've seen it before, just not from ... well, you know." Still confused, Henry removed his hand carefully and cleaned himself and Duncan with the towel.

"Now what do we do with him?"

I considered. I didn't like the idea of trying to move a man as big as Duncan, but it seemed wrong to leave him in the sling all night. We could lower the sling to the bed, but unless we actually carried him out, he would have to stay there. "Would you mind if we slept in here tonight?"

It was the right suggestion to make. His tension lessened immediately. "Not at all."

I left Duncan's head resting in the support, checked that he was still unconscious but in no distress at all, and got off the bed. I expected Henry to start clearing things away, but he was still sitting there, chewing his lip. "Henry?"

"Eric, I ...." Then he blushed and I realised. I walked around to him, and saw the problem for myself.

"Would you like me to deal with that for you?" He was fully aroused and erect, but embarrassed because we weren't alone as we normally be after this kind of thing. "He's asleep, you know."

"Eric, please...." His hands were clenched on his thighs. I knelt in front of him. "Are you sure?" I rarely did this for him, but only because we both preferred penetration.

"Of course, my love. Unless you want something else?"

His blush got deeper. Henry was _not_ an exhibitionist. Even being fellated when the only witness was dead to the world was bad enough. The idea of him taking me with Duncan in the room was impossible to contemplate. "No, this would be ... but Eric, now. Please."

I bent my head as my answer, and took his long, elegant cock in my mouth. He was utterly silent but his hands clenched in my hair, betraying the depth of his stress. I promised myself a long, loving session with him when we were alone, but he wouldn't appreciate that now. I'd hardly ever seen him this desperate, this needy, and I found it intensely exciting. Of course, with me, it had fewer ... physical imperatives.

But that didn't mean I wasn't as eager as he was for this. We hadn't had actual sex since Duncan had come to stay, not that we minded in the least, but just holding him and touching him was never quite enough for me. I needed to taste him, to control his passion, to make his body sing under my hands.

Henry is always so well mannered in such matters. No matter how great his need, no matter that he knew he couldn't hurt me. I knew he would never force the pace, or take care of his need regardless of my comfort. Not, at least, if he had any control. It was a matter of pride for me to try to make him lose that control, those perfect manners, and although he is the only man I've ever practiced this art upon, I had considerable imagination to draw on. More than that, I've had six hundred years to learn how to drive him crazy.

I pushed his knees apart, undid the belt of his bathrobe and pulled him forward on the chair. He whimpered as I cupped his testicles — so sensitive, he'd known exactly how to accommodate Duncan who was similarly susceptible to being touched there. But Henry also knew I would treat him carefully — I've never caused him pain in bed, nor anywhere else since not long after we met.

Before Henry, I had lain only with my wife, and since him, only a very few men with his complete permission. Duncan was one of those rare friends. Nonetheless I had touched the bodies of many others, for their pleasure or their need. I knew the male form very well. It still surprised me how soft a man's body could be in his secret places. The inner thigh, just where the leg meets the body. The balls. The foreskin, softer than a woman's breast, and even more sensitive. And the inside of a wrist, where to stroke Henry gently was to send him into ecstasy. I did that now, tasting his increasing arousal in my mouth, touching his inner arm, his thigh, mapping the perfection of ageless, ever youthful skin, fair as milk and hairless except for a fine covering of the palest red blond hairs.

My darling man is also a noisy child, unable to keep quiet, a steady stream of groans and prayers and pleas, soft and sweet as he was, coming from him. I loved to hear it, for no one can feign the sound of true enjoyment, and to bring my love bliss is all my delight.

His hands tightened, still carefully, but it was a warning not to tease him too much. Not now. I swallowed around his cock, letting my throat give that last final stimulus and he came in a tidy little spurt, crying my name quietly, almost like a sob. I kept him in my mouth until he softened and thus grew less sensitive, but then he moved. As soon as I released him, he slid to the floor and wrapped me in his arms rocking me. "Oh Eric, love, thank you," he breathed.

"My pleasure, dear. Always my pleasure."

And this was mine also, being held, being loved, being his world and his desire. My torturers had stolen my ability to love him in one particular way, but they could not destroy all the other gifts I could give him, that he wanted and needed from me. Henry had shown me that love could redeem even a blackheart like me. That was his gift.

"Uh, guys?"

Henry let me go suddenly, pulling his bathrobe shut, his face red. How long had Duncan been awake? "Wait," I said without looking at him. "I'll let you down." I patted Henry's cheek. "Don't feel shame, my love. You are beautiful, No one would think otherwise."

He looked away, but I couldn't really tell if he was still embarrassed. I got to my feet. Duncan looked abashed also. "God, I'm sorry, Eric, I've never had that happen before."

I lowered the sling to the bed and helped him free his legs. The bed was still in something of a clutter with the pots and towels and things, but Henry was now over in the corner using the sink to wash up, his bathrobe tightly wrapped around himself. "No need to fret. Did you enjoy it?"

He sat up and looked at his stomach where the evidence of his climax remained. "I sure did. Henry ... is he?" he said to me.

Henry heard his question and turned, but didn't come over. "Are you all right, Duncan?"

Duncan frowned. He stood up, wiped the towel quickly over himself and walked over to Henry. "Did I do something wrong, or offend you?" I heard him ask quietly.

Henry shook his head. "No ... I ...." He looked past Duncan to me, pleading.

Duncan turned, confused, and now, I could see, a little hurt by Henry's strangeness. "Henry love, Duncan didn't see anything," I reassured him gently.

"Oh."

"See what? Henry, I was out cold. The last thing I remember was coming like a train and waking up in the sling."

Oh dear. Henry was going all defensive and shy, and I'd thought he was past this with Duncan. But it was Duncan who found the answer by simply wrapping his arms around Henry and whispering something to him. I don't know what he said, but I could guess, because Henry smiled, nodded and let Duncan go. "No, that's just how it's supposed to feel. Will you try it with Methos?"

"Yes. Thank you," Duncan said, kissing him on the cheek, before turning to me. "Eric, I'll be leaving tomorrow."

"I'm glad to hear that, child. You've been away from home long enough."

He looked at me. "I thought you thought I should be here."

"Yes, you should. And soon it will be time to go. But not tonight." I walked over to them. "Shower and then bed?" I asked, taking both their hands.

But Duncan freed himself politely. "Would you be offended if I slept alone tonight? I need ... to think. Before I go, I mean."

"If you're sure, Duncan, of course. You can go to your usual room, you know where it is."

"Thank you. Thank you, both of you." He stepped away, looked at his body and grinned a little. "I really need that shower. Why don't I see you in the morning?"

He took Henry's hand and kissed it, smiling at him with those handsome dark eyes, and Henry grinned back at the slightly romantic gesture. "Good night."

"Let me walk you to your room, Duncan. Henry, love, I'll join in the shower if that's all right."

"See you in there, dear."

I handed Duncan his bathrobe, although it was only a short walk to the room he usually slept in when he and Methos came to us. "You saw," I said quietly.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass him. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him, ever."

"He knows that, Duncan, and he'll get over it." We reached the bedroom, and we paused at the door. "He's ... not used to engaging so intensely with someone other than me. He's formed a bond with you — both of you — and I think it matters more than it would otherwise."

"I know, Eric. You two have given me so much these few days, and Henry has ... he's kept me sane." Duncan lifted his head and looked at me directly. "Will you tell him that?"

"You're going to leave before we get up, aren't you?"

He nodded. "I want to go home. I miss him so much, and I think I can do it now. Because of you, because of Henry...." His expression got a little distant. "Tonight ... God, I've never felt anything like that."

I smiled and touched his cheek. "And that is something to give to Methos and for him to give to you." He looked a little sad. "Duncan, I don't know exactly what happened with Joe, and I don't need to know. But Methos does. And you need to know that Joe was a good man, and so are you. The finest anyone could want. Be kind to his memory — and yourself."

"I'll try. I really will." He kissed my hand just as he had done with Henry. "I want you to know ... if I had to lose Joe, that at least I know I still have two friends I love as much as I loved him. No matter how often we see you."

"Of course, dear boy. We feel the same." I gave him a nudge. "Clean up, sleep, go home and mend your fences. Then bring Methos here for a real holiday soon."

"I will."

He closed the door and I went to find my own sanctuary.

 

* * *

It was a week before we heard from either of them, and it was Methos who called. A much more relaxed Methos this time, with happiness clear in his voice. "I take it all is well?" I asked him.

"All is very well, Eric." He paused. "He seemed to think we need to come up there soon."

I understood what he wasn't saying. "We are also well, Methos. Henry misses the company though. And I was wondering if you and Duncan might like to ... experiment?"

He laughed. "Why, Eric, that's the first time you've ever asked for something for yourself from me. I do believe you're learning."

Now this was a turn around, being teased by my 'submissive'. I thought I rather liked it. "For me and for Henry, of course."

"Of course. You know, Eric, this is the most peaceful Mac's been in years. Much as I like fisting, I think you must have done more than that to help," he said dryly, fishing gently for information.

He didn't need details, not really. "Not much, honestly. He had you to come home too and whatever else happened, he needed that."

"So did I. Did he tell you? About Joe?"

"No. I didn't ask him."

"Hmmm. Maybe I'll tell you when we come up. Next week too soon for you?"

"Can you get away so quickly?"

"We're quitting the University. Time to set up new identities again, and Mac needs time and space to try some new things. He's realised he's got himself into a bit of a trap these last few years. We think we'd like to talk to you about it, because that's what our friends are for."

Friends. Not his 'dom'. Not his 'master'. Equals. "Any time, you know that. Thank you, Methos."

"Ich dien," he joked.

"Nein, Ich liebe. Love, not service."

"Yes. Soon, Eric."

I hung up, smiling to myself. Well, well. And the student becomes the master. I liked that. I liked that very much indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised (or reread by me) since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


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